


Oceans and Afterlife

by peytra



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Oceans, anyway thane deserved better 2kforever, don't read if you get seasick easily, maybe someday I'll write an actual real kissing scene, no violence or real death or whatever, so I'm not actually sure if I should tag this as major character death, the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peytra/pseuds/peytra
Summary: She comes to slowly, the only thing she’s aware of the sensation of being rocked. She feels nothing else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I literally thought about this and then wrote it at 4 am. No beta. It's super short, I know. Find me on tumblr on either @mass-defect, which is my mass effect side blog, or @the-flying-ace, my main blog. Feel free to leave criticism.

She comes to slowly, the only thing she’s aware of the sensation of being rocked. She feels nothing else. She cannot so much as open her eyes, but she knows she is being rocked. She tries to move, to breathe, to do anything at all. She does not know how long she struggles; it could have as easily been a century as a minute. Eventually, she accepts her situation. The rocking is pleasant enough, and she even begins to enjoy it.

All good things must come to an end, and soon enough she brings to feel water lapping at her skin, and as soon as she understands that she is certain she is floating. She's not a great swimmer, but the thought that she's in a body of water and can't seem to move doesn't cause her to panic at all. In fact, nearly the moment she thinks it she dismisses it, completely unconcerned.

The next sensations seem to come quicker than the last, though she couldn't say if they actually did. She feels warmth on her skin, then the smell of salt, then a light breeze. She lets all of these sensations wash over her, acclimating to them as they come. It does not seem as dark as it was, either, the glow of sunlight behind her closed eyes.

She can feel her fingers and toes, can flex them. She still can't seem to move anything else, but she's not worried about it. It'll probably come to her eventually, as everything before it has. For now, she can bask in what she's now completely certain is an ocean.

She can feel her other body parts now. She still can't quite move them, but the sensation of water and sunlight and wind grow more present, if not a tad stronger. She's finally able to open her eyes and sees an endless blue sky.

It's then that she hits something, the first interruption since she felt the rocking. She looks down (and she can see things now, how wonderful is that) and sees wet sand. Sand. She stares at the sand for what feels like a long time, uncomprehending of anything that is not the water. She curls her fingers in it, the clumps sticking together, and bizarrely thinks of the putty you can buy in malls that supposedly won't mess up your carpet.

Slowly, she drags herself up the beach. She's been to enough beaches to know that roughly moving across the sand should hurt, but it doesn't. She gets fully out of the water, then fully into the sand that is still dry. She heaves herself into her back, facing that bright, infinite sky. She lays there for a while, the sand perfectly warm, never burning. Rays of sunlight on her skin, and she vaguely remembers a matronly figure telling her to put on more sunscreen.

She likes it there, and there she stays, the sun never reaching its zenith, the waves rolling against the beach but never getting any higher, the wind carrying the barest hints of sea spray. But she does want to see where she is, and she’s gained back the use of her arms and legs now, so she does, after a time, get up.

It doesn't take as long to stand as she knows it probably should, seeing how not long ago she counts move her legs at all, but she's limber, like a child. The sand doesn't stick to her skin, dry now, and it’s warm on her bare feet. She looks down at herself, and realizes she's clothed, and she's certain that she wasn't just a moment ago.

But it's easy to shrug off as she looks around the area. The beach is completely empty, with scattered, perfectly formed shells here or there. A few paces away is a forest of palm trees, if it could be called a forest at all. There were just enough trees to provide shade, but not enough to potentially hide any dangers. Not that she was very worried about those, anyway. There are no birds, or any wildlife at any kind. It looks like the perfect beach, the kind that you only ever see in pictures, the kind that you know don't really exist.

And she observes this perfect beach, and sees a figure a few feet away from her. Just as she knew that the clothes hadn't been there before, she knows that the man wasn't there before. And it is a man, she realizes. As the man grows closer, both of them walking towards one another, she knows that she had not expected to ever see this man again.

“Thane?” Her voice is soft, inquisitive. “I thought you were dead,” she says, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.

“I am dead,” he says, as though being dead is no real concern of his, “I knew we would meet again sooner than I would like, siha, but not this soon.”

There is a period of silence, and she processes what he’s said, what she remembers, and then-

“I'm dead, aren't I?”

He nods solemnly. “I'm afraid so.” His voice is lower and rougher than she remembers it being, and suddenly she doesn't quite care that she's dead. She pulls him into a fierce hug, her face buried in his neck. His hand strokes her hair gently, and with her head this close to his chest she can hear his steady heartbeat, in time with the waves.

They stand like that for long time, simply reveling in the sensation of holding and being held, but eventually Thane pulls back. Not enough to truly let her go, but enough that she doesn't like the space between them.

“I missed you as well, siha.” His face is open, and he looks genuinely happy to see her. He does not smile, she's not even sure if he can smile, but he still has the look of someone who is happy. She lets go entirely, now.

“Thane… I think I stopped the Reapers, but...” she trails off, her voice soft and confused. Her memories of the Catalyst after Anderson died are hazy at best.

“I know you have questions, and I can answer some of them, but there are others who would like to see you. I can take you to them, if you like.” He offers her his hand, without judgement or rush.

Shepard looks at the sea that was her home for so long. She feels the warm sand, the sunlight, the light wind. She smells the sea spray, the brine and salt. She hears the wind blow through the trees, and the pulse of the waves, like a heartbeat.

She takes his hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> No kiss, but honestly, guys, I'm very not good at writing kiss scenes. As you can see, I'm not very good at writing, either. I love shrios so much it's kind of ridiculous. I tried to keep the specifics about Shepard's background and what she's done ambiguous, especially because I have, like, a super specific Shepard, so I know how hard it can be to read fic that directly conflicts with headcanons. Thanks for your support! <3


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